


all along there

by foulrescent



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foulrescent/pseuds/foulrescent
Summary: “I thought you could handle this job.” And me . Arthur steps closer, away from the door. He’s still gripping that notebook and though it’s not the same as the one that Eames found Cobb’s Qatar address and a phone number that lead to a shady PASIV dealer written in with a neat scrawl, his chest tightens every time he catches a glimpse of what could be in those pages. “You promised Cobb.”“That’s before I saw that ring on your finger, my blushing bride.”
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	all along there

**Author's Note:**

> If the context doesn't make sense, it's because this is part of something extensively long I wrote back in the day, but I adored this finished/not finished part so much that I thought about it while listening to Taylor Swift. bless folklore 
> 
> This is just dumb boys living intertwined and heated lives, a typical one-shot of one of their getting back together ordeals that just has to happen in the middle of the Fischer job

“Eames, take five with me outside,” orders Arthur, getting off the chair that Eames had tipped over with the goal of cracking his skull. 

“The meeting’s not done.”

“I’ll be done with you if you don’t come outside. _Now_.”

“Darling, not in front of the children.” But Eames tilts his head to the team and makes a gracious exit out of his comfortable, and secure, wheelie chair. Cobb gives him an unimpressed look, as if Arthur wasn’t the one that bought more attention to them than he should’ve.

Arthur has his notebook and pen in one hand, the other on the door to push it open. He doesn’t hold the door open and Eames has to kick out his leg so it doesn’t slam shut on his nose. That’s fair, he thinks. The sky’s a little too grey for how early it is in the evening, but the air smells of rain and Arthur’s minty and sharp cologne. Eames really wishes that his nose was buried into Arthur’s neck. _It will pass_.

“Do you remember what I told you?” He gets asked, as if he wasn’t already thinking that specific sentence. When he nods his yes, Arthur lets out an agitated sigh. “Then what the fuck’s up with you? You're acting like you're still trying to hate me.”

They’re on a landing of cement a few metres off the ground. The entrance to the warehouse is obvious, which is something that Cobb usually forfeits for an inauspicious door with several locks. This one has a set of 22 steps and dodgy railing that would snap if Eames were to lean on it. He does anyway, surveying the drop if the rusted metal were to bend. He likes to look casual in front of Arthur.

“You suddenly don’t have anything to say. Typical of you to be spouting bullshit in front of an audience, but when it’s _just_ me-”

“You can read through my bullshit. Why should I even bother, love?”

“What do you want?”

He wonders if that time travel is possible, just like extreme lucid dreaming is. He’d rather perform espionage with time, forge through memories to make them new. He wishes that he had bought his cigarettes with him. They’re sitting right on his desk. “For it to _pass_ like you want, but although you treat it like one it’s not a disease. It won’t be defeated by new cells. It consumes me, Arthur.”

“I thought you could handle this job.” _And me_. Arthur steps closer, away from the door. He’s still gripping that notebook and though it’s not the same as the one that Eames found Cobb’s Qatar address and a phone number that lead to a shady PASIV dealer written in with a neat scrawl, his chest tightens every time he catches a glimpse of what could be in those pages. “You promised Cobb.”

“That’s before I saw that ring on your finger, my blushing bride.”

“You’re jealous?”

“Two years I was clean.” _And we were together. And you were my fiance._ “Two years I followed your definition of a respectable life. I didn’t even forge that Bacon I gave you.”

“You stole that.”

“Before I fucking met you!”

“Is this about breaking promises?”

“It’s about you living a life with Cobb that _I_ could’ve given you.”

Arthur’s expression crumbles. He blinks several times and steps one foot back. He grabs the back of his neck with his free hand and shrugs. The movements dwarfed by how quickly his eyes swell up with tears. Eames wants to kiss his eyelids, but Arthur tilts his head back, blinking rapidly. “We both had expectations.”

“I lived up to all of yours,” Eames says softly. He searches Arthur’s eyes, but his old lover looks to the distance. “I loved you so much that it took you breaking all those rules you set to make me realise that you did nothing to make me happy.”

“It did pass.”

“It grew fresher.”

Eames pushes past Arthur to get back into their sad excuse of an office. When he used to be in charge of jobs, all those years ago when he was the one with the client and had the pressure of organising everything, he never would've stooped as low as an abandoned warehouse to do his work out of. His desk’s all the way in the corner and he has to walk around their even sadder excuse of the spot they use for their meeting’s. It’s a bunch of chairs and a whiteboard in a circle, and the gang’s all there when Eames turns around the corner. 

“Arthur coming back in?” Ariadne asks, peering over Eames shoulder as if he’d be dragging Arthur’s dead body back inside. 

“You alright?” Yusuf sits up straighter. 

“I’ll be heading out,” he announces. “I’ll be back in a day or two. I’ve got to deal with some personal matters.”

Cobb looks ready to trap Eames in the humid warehouse. “What personal matters?”

“Unless you want to find another forger so late in the game, I suggest that you let me have the weekend off like this is a proper 9 to 5 like we all pretend it is.” Eames lets a pleasant smile take over his face and finally gets to his desk. He pockets his JPS Menthols, but not before checking if he needs a restock. He does and there's a 7/11 down the road. It's the perks of working in shady Sydney neighbourhoods. 

“Eames!” Cobb’s shouting, but Yusuf says something quietly that shuts him up. 

Then there’s the sound of the door and Cobb’s shouting again. “Arthur! What the fuck did you do?”

“Eames and I aren’t used to working together like this.” 

“You’ve pulled so many fucking jobs together, Arthur? What the fuck do you mean you’re not _used to working together_?”

“I’m fucking telling you that we can’t work together, Dom!”

“You found Eames for this job! You lead me right to him and now you’re turning around and-”

“I always know where he is,” Arthur interrupts, cooly and sure. 

Eames finally turns around. “Then you’ll know where I’ll be going, darling.”

“About fucking time, too.” Arthur puts two fingers to his own mouth, but startlingly pulls them away when the touch registers. “The place’s probably infested with cobwebs.” Which means that Eames will have to get rid of them before Arthur steps foot into the house. 

“I can’t tell if they’ve made up or not.” Ariadne mostly says to herself. 

“Arthur’s an asshole,” Cobb tells her, then to Arthur himself, “I’m sick of you two pulling this type of shit. Are you gonna let him think he doesn’t have a chance?”

Arthur holds up his right hand, where that wedding band fits nice and snug. “I needed healthcare in Norway for appendicitis. I don’t even remember her name.”

“It’s Noora Valterson.” Cobb almost looks bored. 

“I have another 3 months before we can divorce.”

“I’ve always wanted to be involved with a married man.” Eames shrugs on his jacket. It’s a tight fit around his biceps. “I imagine it would be so exhilarating to sneak around.”

“It’s keeping it fresh, huh?" It stings in such a good way that Eames looks at Arthur in wonder.

Pretending that there isn’t an audience, Eames confesses, “I’ve been waiting for you to turn around.”

“Stop this bullshit,” Yusuf groans. 

“After the third break up, you’d think these idiots would fucking get it.” Cobb tips over one of the chairs in frustration. 

“Oh.” Ariadne realises. "They're usually together together when working together."

When Cobb had come calling for him in Mombasa, Eames knew what was at stake. Cobb wouldn’t reduce to putting Arthur in the same room with his ex, nonetheless a job, unless the result of such a strenuous and untidy reconciliation meant that lives would be turned around. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to share the same space as Arthur without wanting all of the man’s attention on him. 

“You know what? I bet these two fuckers agreed to do better as friends, but then Eames was like _I still love you_ and fucking booked it. And Arthur, that bitch, wants that chase.” Cobb paces around the whiteboard. He lets out a muffled yell. 

“I don’t want to pick up the pieces again,” Yusuf begs Eames. 

“You won’t have to,” Eames tells him, still looking at Arthur and his sweetface. 

“That’s what you said after you seduced Arthur in Wellington, but then a year later you were high and trying to make out with my sister.” Yusuf looks ready to slap him. 

“That’s it?” Cobb scoffs. “Arthur burnt down an apartment in Ankara because it smelt like Eames.”

“Eames put a hit out on Arthur in 2004.”

“While in hiding in 2004, Arthur got a body pillow of Eames made.”

“That’s about enough,” Arthur orders, bright pink and hair shattered around his forehead. 

“I think Arthur wins,” announces Yusuf. 

“You always broke up with me.” Eames itches closer to Arthur’s side. 

“You drive me mad,” whispers Arthur. 

Later, Eames will deny that he moaned out loud when Arthur deepened their unprofessional kiss that he was gratefully assaulted with in front of their coworkers. He'd never been so thankful that HR doesn't exist. 

He'll say that Ariadne's unfairly edited the video with a special effect with the aim of embarrassing him, but Arthur will whisper that it was sexy and surprising and pull the covers over their bodies. They'll be in their Melbourne home, which Arthur didn't step foot into for an hour while Eames dealt with the freakishly long legged spiders and excessive amount of webs. And they'll be talking quietly as if someone's listening, for they have a lot of explaining and a list of hundreds of mundane stories that they each have missed out on. They won't deny each other in that complicated way that makes Cobb's blood boil again - 

Until Arthur founds out about the enemies Eames made in Texas because of an online gambling scam. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It felt good to publish something again. Thank you for reading through any mistakes


End file.
